Daryl fished the book out and set it on the table, then went to grab the others that hadn't bobbed up yet. Not so soft curses of 'shit' and 'fuckin' hell' left his lips as he piled them all on together. Maybe there was a drying spell somewhere.

He glanced at the first book and opened it randomly. He wasn't sure what it was or could do, but hell, it sounded fun and was better than goddamn termites.

Daryl spun the book around and pushed it to her, pointing at the surface, "You wanna toss a spell around? Try that one. I'm gonna get these as high as I can."

The spell, pages dry from it's enchantment, read Ice Bolt. Maybe freezing them would work?